The Osiris: "A Place Where There is No Darkness"
by Empress Jejune Tome
Summary: This is my perception of what Harry Potter would be if it was dominated by the same government found in George Orwell's 1984. It's rather frightening if I do say so myself. Voldemort rules the world! Run for your life! Chapter three has been added, it's g
1. Voldemort's Liege

A/N: This will probably make more sense if you have read George Orwell's _1984. _If you have, you should recognize the title's quote as where Winston hoped to meet Emmanuel Goldstein and O'Brien in his future. If you haven't read the book, you should. This fic is based on the concept that the government, in this case, Voldemort's liege, would begin brainwashing and taking over the world. Everything from sex to freedom of thought was prohibited, and everyone worked "together". It was kind of like fascism and communism mixed together. Well, on with the writing! (By the way, I don't own H.P., never have, never will.) And, I have nothing against Ron and others, it is just the way things turned out. J

Cold. The frigid air of winter beat upon his back, the word resounding, echoing in his brain. It was always winter. The young boy with hurt eyes and disheveled black hair trudged across the frozen ground, toward his classroom. A humming plane soared overhead, broadcasting news of the latest victory of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord's liege. The boy pulled his cloak nearer around his neck and hunched over. He did not like to think of THEM, the terrors of the Death Eaters. Everyone else seemed to think their government was fair and that once THEY had captured the rest of the free world, everything would be serene. He knew peace would not prevail. The dark boy shivered abruptly, shook his head, and continued forward. 

"Comrade Harry! Wait up!" an energetic voice called from behind him. A boy his age with vibrant orange hair came bounding to his side. 

"What now, Ronald?" the boy named Harry muttered crossly. Ronald lookedtaken aback at the severity of his tone, and his omission of _comrade._ Everyone was to use _comrade _before naming a friend. It was the rule. 

"I just wanted to know if you had gotten the latest pamphlet for this month's Hate Week. You don't want to miss out on anything!" Harry shrugged the pestering boy off and continued walking. He attempted to shut the words from his mind. He knew what Hate Week was; just another session, like every other day. It was the week where THEY promoted the total conformation of THEIR organization and brainwashed the entire world… or at least the parts THEY controlled. 

The Death Eaters had begun fighting for world domination so long ago to Harry. No one actually knew exactly when the battles had begun. Harry recalled them as starting his first year at Hogwart's; the history books wrote them in as nearly twenty years ago. Harry had often wondered why he was not like the rest of the New Order's World. That was what THEY had called it. The brainwashing THEY had given him never did much, it just made him wonder even more. He, unlike his 'friends', could recall the past in memories, not just from the faulty newspapers. He remembered when THEY had come and taken the teachers, doctors, and anyone else who was educated. THEY had burned the books and letters, anything THEY could get THEIR hands on. 

"We're here, _Comrade _Harry." The nasal voice broke through Harry's silence. He looked up to find himself standing in front of the Transfigurations classroom. Harry stepped inside the room. It was just like the others; everything was identical now. And Harry did not understand their tactics. THEY had first fed everyone THEIR prejudices and hatred. Throughout school, Harry had learned the ways of Hitler and Stalin, that love is hate, peace is hate, and that life is hate. 

Harry remembered watching his childhood friends being sucked into the vortex of the New Order. He had felt so alone and helpless.

The Transfigurations classroom was filled with rowdy sixth years. Harry slumped into the wooden chair nearest to the door, placing his head in his hands. He glanced uneasily around the room. Boys were drawing on the chalkboards and throwing around paper airplanes carrying the Death Eater symbols. Girls were chatting wildly about the newest of the conservative fashions. They were oblivious to the death that surrounded them. 

"Fascists and Communists. What's the difference? They're all the same to me," muttered the boy, brushing back his hair. 

"Excuse me, Comrade Potter?" questioned the professor who had just entered the room. 

"Nothing… Comrade." For the first time in his life, he actually dared to glance at his 'teacher'. She had never taught him anything, only stood in the corner supervising the activities in the room. She kept watch while a bright screen in the room mesmerized the children with made-up stories and false statistics. His teacher wore a pale and tired expression. THEY apparently had been after her. Her face was weathered, that of a woman twice her age. 

He returned his gaze to the middle of a classroom, where a brilliant white screenhad begun projecting about pictures of the Death Eaters' latest conquests. Transfigurations was no more than a news reel. 

Harry felt the heat of another's eyes on him. He turned slightly to see a pair of teary blue irises darting away. The news reel abruptly clicked off and the students began leaving. The black haired boy floated through the corridors to the dining hall, not paying attention to anything in particular. He sat at the end of a table in the farthest corner of the hall. 

"Mind if I join you?" Harry looked up to see the blue eyes again. 

"If THEY see you, it will mean trouble," he barely whispered. The girl slid in a nearby seat, ignoring his comment completely. 

"My name is Ginny. I know you Harry. I've watched you for a while. I heard what you said in class today."

"You can go right ahead and tell THEM. I don't give a damn if THEY decide to kill me."

"That is not it!" the girl giggled, almost too gaily for their somber environment, "there are more of us than you think, Harry. We are all like you!"

"What do you mean, like me?"

"We haven't been destroyed like the others. We still have our morals, our ideals, our _souls!_" she spoke passionately, shaking Harry's shoulders. 

"We don't believe in… this!" She gestured to the whole of the hall. 

"Shush!" he breathed, as an "owlcam" [1] monitoring the students' conversations passed by. 

"No worries!" she smiled brightly. "I have to go. No worries until next time, _Comrade Harry_." Ginny stood from her stool, and tossing her hair, she walked off. 

"No worries," murmured the boy, staring longingly after her. If only THEY did not prohibit love. "No worries."

[1]: This is like the video screens that constantly monitor what you are doing and saying, to make sure you aren't plotting anything against their org. 

A/N: Hey please Review! I know it's soooo hard, but do it! And, if you didn't get much of this, don't worry, I promise it will make sense later. 


	2. The Brotherhood

  
A/N: Yes, I am back with a vengeance! Ohh, Harry is in love, methinks. Hey, just to let you know..(little history lesson) Osiris is the Egyptian guardian of the underworld. Makes you think, doesn't it?  
  
  
Night fell like jet black ink, engulfing the school. Harry's head was filled with thoughts and incomplete phrases, not allowing the peace of the dark to enter in. The icy winter gusts had filled every corner of his room, but in his mind it was summer. He could only vaguely recall the heat that emanated from the streets and houses, the sunshine that beat down upon every soul.   
He collapsed upon his four-poster bed in depression and unease. Still his mind was swimming in images of a jubilant girl tossing her flaming hair in the salty breeze of the ocean. He slowly awakened from his meditation, musing to himself in the darkness.  
He would not be able to envision his treasure for much longer. If the Thought Police, part of THEIR ministry, he would likely be reprogrammed and transferred. He felt he owed it to her to cloud her from his mind.   
Harry lay awake for most of the night. He made sure he was the first of his classmates to leave the common room. He ventured out into the sparkling white hallways only after he had heard the echo of footsteps die out in the distance. Nothing surrounded him. For once, he was enveloped in complete solitude and serenity; he could only hear the sporadic thumping of his heart. No cameras or wizards floated in this area, there was only Harry and the white tiled floor.   
Suddenly, a tiny noise pricked up Harry's ears. He could hear someone or something coming closer to him, trying to be secretive and silent. Reaching for his wand, Harry found the folds of his cloak empty. To late, he recollected the day the liege had banned all use of magic by any commoner. Unarmed, he turned to meet his ultimate fate, and found that he was alone in the hallway.   
"Ha! Tricked you!" whispered a giggling voice from behind Harry. He whipped his body around and found himself looking at the girl from his dreams.   
"Harry! I'm glad you came down here. We need to talk."  
"Yes," he was only able to mumble. He followed her to the edge of the corridor, where no one would be able to view them by camera.   
"I know you are probably confused, Harry. You don't have to try and understand, just let everything come to you. You are like us, you know that this isn't how life has always been. I know that you still are strong and can remember the past." The words fell from her lips like raindrops, pooling in Harry's mind. He knew what she was saying, yet he could not forsake his government. He knew he did not love Voldemort's liege; the only one he loved was Ginny.   
"Come with us, Harry!" she was almost pleading, tugging on his loose sleeve. Her bright eyes once again filled with warm, salty tears, her voice showing the pain she had felt from life.   
"Yes." With one word, Harry could feel his dreams and wants escaping out to the open. He knew he was not strong enough to face anyone, let alone the powerful and all-knowing Death Eaters. Every morning when Harry rose, he could see his hollow face reflecting from the looking-glass, pale and emotionless. He had empty eyes and a blank forehead, no thoughts showing on the outside. He had often pondered why he could not be stronger, and now Ginny was asking him to run away and join the Brotherhood, perhaps.   
The Brotherhood was the only organization that was fighting Voldemort's rule. After the fall of the premier, Albus Dumbledore, all young men who followed his ideals had united and begun their attack. No one knew if the Brotherhood existed anymore; no one seemed strong enough to fight.   
Ginny seemed to understand his sorrowful thoughts and clutched his hand to her chest.   
"Listen to me, Harry. Come here tomorrow, and we can be free." With that, she dropped his icy hand, stroked his cheek and fled through the hallway.   
"No worries."  
Harry continued on in the day, mechanically following his routine. When he was not at his Transfigurations class, he worked as a scribe and messenger for the New Order. He worked in an enclosed cubicle next to Ronald, the brother of his Ginny. They were nothing alike, Ronald had a strong allegiance to the New Order, working as a translator. THEY had taken away all languages escape for English, which THEY had shortened until it only contained a few descriptive words.   
Harry often spent hours watching Ronald. He believed Ronald knew too much about the past of the New Order, and that one day THEY would "reprogram" him. Harry had seen it happen before. Innocent people who just happen to know about the past were taken away and never seen again. Harry did not care much for Ronald, but he still felt it at heart. He knew nothing of politics and of freedom, but he knew that THEY were wrong.   



	3. The Hanging Tree

A/N: Wow! I have never made it farther than a stand alone fic, and now I am at three chapters! Rock on! 

Harry typed away on his typewriter. The monotonous pounding of the keys echoed in his brain, overwhelming the drone of his workplace. He slapped down a finished sheet of parchment and leaned back in his chair. From the top of his cubicle wall he could see a glimpse of red hair. Ronald was evidently working hard on destroying the past. With two days until the start of Hate Week, he certainly must have been tied down with work. Harry was dreading the next few days. He knew he must pretend to be enjoying the festivities of watching THEM destroy the free world. He worried about Ginny. What if THEY found out she was a traitor?

Harry once again glanced to his right, by habit. Ronald was not observant enough to suspect his sister of anything. She had skipped one year of school so she could be close to him, attempting, perhaps, to protect him. Ronald was oblivious to life. 

Harry knew how they worked; weeding out the weak and vulnerable, making them work with dangerous materials until they found out too much. Then, and only then, the Death Eaters would take them away, backing noiselessly into the shadows. They were erased from everyone's minds, just like everyone else. Harry shook his head, and rocked forward in his chair. He sifted through the papers on his desk, looking for something interesting to work on and stopping abruptly. 

Under the layers of envelopes and letters lay an old, crinkledphotograph. Three men, apparently criminals, hung from the thick ropes of a gallows, swaying in an unseen breeze. The executioner stood to the side, smiling mischievously through his black hood and waving madly to the crowd. 

"Good Lord!" exclaimed the boy in excitement, realizing to late that he had spoken aloud. Ronald peered over from his right. 

"What's wrong, comrade?" Harry quickly regained his senses. 

"Nothing, I'm just extremely hungry, that's all, " he lied.

"Well, lunch is in a bit. Hold on until then," the other boy said, disappearing again. Harry wiped his anxious brow and dug out the picture. His quick eyes returned to the faces of the prisoners. Instead of being caught in the grimaces of Death, their lips and eyes lay impassive. He drifted over to their uniforms. They were obviously prisoners, either of war, or convicted traitors of the liege. The date of the photograph read February 8of 1997. For minutes, Harry stared at the black lettering. 

THEY had said the last traitors had been killed off before the war of 1995 had begun against Africa. Harry rapidly flipped through his messages again. Someone had accidentally sent HIM this picture, and now he knew too much. If he was ever found out!

Something in the corner of his eye grabbed at his mind. It was the name on the shirt of the middle prisoner. In bold, black printing it read: Weasley. Harry's heart pounded in his ears like a jackhammer, his palms filled with sweat, small beads forming on his brow. 

"Oh, God," he muttered carelessly. Arthur Weasley was Ginny's father who had disappeared at her birth. THEY had said he had been reprogrammed and transferred, but Ronald had sometimes told Harry of the letters they received from someone claiming to be Arthur. A fraud, he had said. Harry uneasily propped his feet upon his desk. His mind flew to several conclusions, each one taking Harry farther and farther into regret. Now, he knew he was in too deep.

Arthur had gone to join the Brotherhood that fought against Voldemort's liege. He had been alive and the Brotherhood was still alive! Harry realized it had only been one year since THEY had killed Arthur. There was still hope. 

Harry carefully folded the photograph, dropping it into the pocket of his robe as the lunch bell rang to relieve the workers. He fell behind his co-workers, attempting to escape from the massive crowd that filled the hallways. He despised the way they all seemed to flow together; he did not understand how their minds could work that way. He often stood alone and just watched them. They would never bump or shove each other, but the occasional stand-out, a person who did not move that way, would get pushed aside. Several times, Harry was shoved into the cold brick walls of the hallway, each time patting his pocket to make sure the photograph still remained. 

He plodded along the corridor, never bothering to actually pick up his feet. He continually stared straight at the floor, as not to attract attention or accidentally look into the hollow glares of the others. He slipped into a corner seat in the dining hall, and placed his head on the cold wood of the table. He gazed at the natural patterns, tracing his tired finger along the trails of darker oak. He thoughts were interrupted by a tap to his shoulder. He found himself staring into the face of a stranger. 

"Uhh, can I help you?" he said, almost crossly. The stranger smiled, brushing a strand of gold hair out of his eyes. 

"My name is Draco… Draco Malfoy," he drawled. Harry frowned, waiting for him to continue. 

"Yes?" The stranger's grin grew even wider. His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, his lips almost touching Harry's ear. 

"I have heard that you are like us."

"I wish people would stop saying that phrase," Harry exclaimed, pushing himself away from Draco. The blond boy smirked, and then went expressionless.

"You will learn to believe. Here," he handed Harry a small pocketbook with yellowed pages, "read this, and you will know the truth." He walked away, not once glancing back. Harry stared for a moment at the dark cover of the book, imagining the stories that lay in its ancient pages. He tucked it securely in his cloak pocket, next to the photograph, wishing the day would be over, so he could explore the book that held such knowledge. 


End file.
